


Through the Storms

by Smediterranea



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smediterranea/pseuds/Smediterranea
Summary: With all of the terrible, horrible trauma the rest of her family is suffering, Arya’s concussion has been the least of everyone’s worries. She’s been bored out of her skull most of the day, but she didn’t dare mention her problems to anyone — what was boredom compared to paraplegia, or critical, life-threatening injuries?But here is Gendry with a battered old iPod, quietly eating his sandwich, waiting for her to pick which podcast she wants to listen to.OR how Arya and Gendry become friends, and Arya tries (and fails) to ignore her crush on him.





	1. The Concussion

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a monstrously long one-shot, but I've broken it up into four parts to make it more manageable. The other sections are written, and will be posted soon!
> 
> Also, Thanksgiving exists in Westeros for the purposes of this story because I wanted an excuse for the Starks to gather together in November ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy!

Arya couldn’t remember the last time she had stayed still for this long. Her inactivity was a far cry from her usual nonstop leg twitching and fidgeting in her seat. Her mother would, for once, be proud of her.

That is, if her mother were even still alive.

There’s a small chance that she _is_ still alive, but no one is telling Arya anything. A weeping Sansa and an ashen-faced Robb hadn’t been able to give her any news about either of her parents. They did know that Bran was in stable condition, but something was clearly wrong with him. Arya gave up trying to ask her siblings anything and focused on staying completely immobile. 

Arya remembers learning about the stages of grief, that grief starts with denial. That was certainly the predominant emotion she felt right now. She is tired — so _tired_. The slightest movement makes her head pound and her stomach roil with nausea. She just wants to close her eyes and rewind to this morning. She’d wake up in her bed, ready for the big race day. She and Bran would load up their racing bikes, and their parents would drive them out to the hills. They’d complete their circuits, and drive home like they always did.

This time, there would be no semi truck to plow into their van.

Arya had been asleep when it happened. It had probably saved her life — she had limply slammed her head into the side window as the truck t-boned their car, but other than a massive concussion and serious seat belt burn, she was going to be fine.

Her parents and brother, on the other hand, were all behind the closed doors of the intensive care unit, apparently fighting for their lives.

She stays still, hoping beyond hope that this is all just a terrible, terrible dream.

 

—

 

Two weeks later and her parents are still in the ICU, but both are stable for the moment. The doctors are more and more confident that they will both pull through, albeit with a long slog of physical therapy ahead for both of them.

Bran is home, but he has scarcely said a word. His T5 vertebral injury means that he will likely never walk again. Arya sits silently beside him, but she has nothing to say either. She loves her brother, but so much of their relationship is woven around their shared passion for cycling.

He’ll never race her again, and that makes her want to vomit even more than the concussion does.

This morning, however, the extremely loud banging coming from downstairs is making the nausea worse than ever. Arya has retreated to her own dark room, far from the noise, and is wearing the giant noise-canceling headphones Sansa had received last year as a graduation gift. It does little to drown out the hammering.

Just when Arya is about to lose it, the hammering stops. Ten minutes later, loud footsteps echo up the stairs to her room. Her eyes are closed, but she can only assume it’s Robb coming to bring her lunch. He’s back from university for the summer — he canceled his summer internship to help take care of his battered family — which is really very generous, but he hasn’t quite figured out the whole “keep noises down” thing that Arya needs.

“What the hell are you doing down there?” she snaps as she hears the door open.

“Building a ramp,” replies a deep voice. 

Arya’s eyes snap open.

It’s not Robb standing in her room, but Gendry, his roommate. Arya’s traitorous heart flips over.

She’s had a crush on Gendry since she was fourteen and Robb brought him back to Winterfell over Thanksgiving break. She’s knows it’s stupid — he’s about to be a senior at King’s Landing University and she’s only a senior at Winterfell High, not to mention he’s roommates and friends with Robb and her cousin Jon — but she likes Gendry. That first Thanksgiving her mother had insisted they get out of the house to leave her to cook in peace, and Arya had pleaded to tag along with the older guys on their bike ride. She had kept pace pretty well, but when they got to the last hill she turned it on full steam. This was _her_ hill, and she flew up it. Robb had huffed that she just knew the route better than they did, and even Jon had seemed a little miffed to be beaten by her, but Gendry had laughed.

“I’m gonna feel that hill for a week,” he’d smiled at her. “You’re really good.” 

“‘Course I am, stupid. I’ll beat you guys tomorrow, too.”

Gendry laughed, loud and bright. Thus Arya’s extremely unrealistic crush began.

It certainly did not improve the next two years when Gendry came back for Thanksgiving and let her destroy him at cycling again. He had even sent her a postcard for her birthday of a man in a party hat riding a penny-farthing, which she had pinned to the corkboard above her desk. 

She prays that he doesn’t notice its place of prominence as he enters her room, carrying a large tray of food. She feels the fog in her head swirling as she tries to process what Gendry just said.

“You’re building a ramp?”

“Yeah,” he replies, setting down the tray and sinking ungracefully onto her desk chair. “Robb said he called a contractor, but they can’t come until a month from now. Figured a makeshift one was better than none. He said he wanted to get Bran out of the house for his therapy appointments, but the wheelchair makes it tough.”

“You built Bran a wheelchair ramp?”

Gendry eyes her warily. Arya knows what he is thinking — everyone thought she had totally lost it since the concussion, but she understood perfectly well what Gendry had done. She was just a little overwhelmed by how she felt about it.

“Don’t you have a summer job or something?”

“Yeah, that’s why I couldn’t come before today. Would’ve been here last weekend, but the train tickets were already sold out.”

“That was… nice of you,” she manages to stammer out.

Gendry shrugs. “No big deal. Just wish I had gotten here sooner to do it. Robb is shit with a hammer.”

“Econ majors,” she says weakly, and Gendry grins at her. He holds up a piece of a sandwich in offering.

“There’s no way I can eat all of that,” she says, eyeing the plate skeptically.

“Oh, I know. Half of this is for me,” he says, picking up his own sandwich. “Is it cool if I hang with you on a lunch break?”

Normally, she would’ve been thrilled by the prospect of a one-on-one conversation with the object of her affections. Now his offer makes her want to shrink under the covers. She could barely carry on a normal conversation without feeling exhausted. She wasn’t exactly at her A-game for talking to her crush.

“I brought some stuff to listen to… if you want,” he offers, as if sensing her hesitation.

“Stuff to listen to?” She curses herself for being so awkward — it wasn’t like her to stupidly repeat everything someone said.

Gendry seems not to notice. “Yeah, got a bunch of podcasts, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ — I downloaded it in Braavosi, too, but I won’t be able to understand that one like you can. Oh, and there are a few of my mechanical engineering lectures on here that I was using to study last semester, but you should really only listen to those if you are having trouble falling asleep.”

“You… you downloaded _Harry Potter_ in Braavosi?” Ugh, why could she not stop repeating things? This concussion was going to kill her from embarrassment.

“If you don’t want it, there are other books I can get, too. I just figured this would be useful to start with.” 

She stares at him, wide-eyed, for a long moment before he adds, “I got a concussion in high school, back when I played football. Fucking brutal. Just sat in the dark and had to listen to the TV with my eyes closed. I figured there’s way more good audio recording stuff now, so I brought you some.”

Arya tries very hard not to start crying. With all of the terrible, horrible trauma the rest of her family is suffering, Arya’s concussion has been the least of everyone’s worries. She’s been bored out of her skull most of the day, but she didn’t dare mention her problems to anyone — what was boredom compared to paraplegia, or critical, life-threatening injuries?

But here is Gendry with a battered old iPod, quietly eating his sandwich, waiting for her to pick which podcast she wants to listen to.

“Hmm… how about this RadioLab about birds?” she suggests.

Gendry huffs a laugh, but connects the iPod to her speakers. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Says the engineer.”

“Robots are objectively cool.”

“So are birds. And nature, and evolution.”

Gendry smiles and hits play.

 

—

 

Two more weeks pass, and her concussion isn’t really getting any better. No one seems to notice.

Her parents are back from the hospital — her dad is also in a wheelchair, albeit temporarily, and her mom is up and walking, although she’s in a cartoonish half-cast on her upper body. They joke that together they make an almost-able-bodied parent. Still, it’s a big adjustment for everyone with all the physical therapy and follow-up doctor’s appointments. 

Robb, Jon, and Sansa have all decided to stay in Winterfell for the summer, and between the three of them they shuttle the rest of the family around. Arya is particularly happy to have Jon around, as she’s always gotten along well with him — better than she did with most of her siblings, actually. Although Jon is their cousin, he’s spent almost every summer growing up with her family. His parents were old school hippies who roamed around Westeros, so Jon didn’t mind avoiding summers full of trips to nudist colonies. Jon’s presence, along with Robb and Sansa, is invaluable to four recovering invalids.

Rickon is constantly running around the house, bringing people glasses of water or their misplaced phones. He is repaid handsomely in candy and he seems to find this period of family life amazingly fun. 

Arya, for her part, tries to help out, mostly by spending time with Bran. He seems to be the only one who notices she isn’t herself, but he’s not really in a position to help her either. They listen to all of Gendry’s podcasts, and the entirety of both volumes of _Harry Potter_. Bran even listens to the mechanical engineering lectures — it seems to rouse him a little from the gloom that’s been settling around him. Arya asks Robb for Gendry’s number and texts him to send more engineering stuff for Bran. A week later, a package arrives with a flash drive labeled “MechE204Lectures” and several enormous introductory textbooks. Bran dives into them headfirst, but Arya still can’t read for longer than ten minutes without getting a massive headache. 

She slinks back into her room, trying to decide which podcast she should get into today.

Her phone buzzes, and she groans. Her friends haven’t really taken to the idea that Arya can’t participate in long text threads because of her stupid traumatic brain injury. She grabs her phone but is surprised to see that it’s Gendry.

_Gendry Waters: Hey, do you need more podcasts? I can send another flashdrive_

Arya feels a glow of affection and a simultaneous pang of sadness. She doesn’t want his pity, but she’s still happy to have his attention. She feels pathetic and a little weepy, so her response is curt.

_Arya Stark: You don’t have to  
I’m fine_

_Gendry Waters: I know, but you’re probably bored_  
_I’m bored_  
_Making a podcast playlist is more fun than this problem set._  
_Also the people living above me are having some sort of afternoon party on their balcony_  
_It’s like they’re rubbing it in_  
_We get it, you’re communications majors who don’t have homework_  
_Not all of us get to spend Saturdays outside like normal people_

She takes a deep breath, trying to think of a response that will show her gratitude for his offer without seeming desperate, but she must take too long because her phone starts to buzz again.

This time, it doesn’t stop buzzing. It takes her a moment to figure out he’s _calling_ her phone.

“Hello?” she answers tentatively, not quite believing that this isn’t just an accidental call.

“Hey,” rumbles Gendry, and Arya feels her stomach flip in excitement. “Sorry for all the texts. I forgot, you’re probably not supposed to look at screens, huh?”

“Oh,” says Arya. “No, I… It still gives me a headache.”

“Bummer,” says Gendry. She can hear some noise in the background, like he’s scraping something.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry, can you hear that?” he says, and the sounds shifts, like he’s moved the phone from one ear to another. “I’m just trying to sand something down a bit.”

“Thought you said you were bored.”

“I am bored, sanding stuff is super boring. But still less boring than this problem set I’m supposed to be working on. How are things going with you?”

And just like that, Gendry starts calling her once a week to check in. They make a habit of it. Monday nights from 8 to 8:30, she and Gendry talk. It’s mostly about podcasts they’ve listened to — him about machine learning and her about conservation ecology — but every now and then they manage to slip in some personal details. She learns that he’s at King’s Landing University on a full scholarship ( _the Dondarion and Myr Scholarship: Lighting the way for the next generation’s engineers_ , he explains), that he’s lived in King’s Landing his whole life. He never knew his dad and his mom died when he was little, but he was one of the few kids in the foster system who got pretty lucky. His foster parents noticed his passion for machines and had friends who worked at an autobody shop. Gendry has fixed up more cars and motorcycles than he could count, but now that he is at university he really wants to specialize in robotics.

Arya gives up trying to ignore her crush. If only she could ignore her headaches, too.

 

—

 

Arya manages to limp her way through the start of senior year, relieved that Thanksgiving break is finally here.

Her family is repairing itself, slowly but surely. There were a few rough weeks when Sansa, Jon, and Robb all went back to school, but her mom was able to drive soon afterwards, and her dad transitioned out of a wheelchair to a walker, and now to a cane. Bran is still, quite understandably, in a bit of a funk. He’s going through the motions, learning to use his wheelchair, going to therapy — both physical and mental — but the only thing he seems genuinely excited about is the school robotics club. Still, it’s an improvement, and everyone in the family seems to see that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Everyone, that is, except Arya.

She has fewer headaches, but she’s always nauseated. Walking down the aisles of a crowded grocery store makes her head spin, and she can hardly manage to run a quarter mile without wanting to vomit. Everyone in the family seems to be catching on despite her best efforts to hide it.

Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving, Robb’s car pulls up at the house and all the dogs start barking like crazy. Arya is grumpy at being woken up before noon on her last week-long Thanksgiving break ever, but her spirits lift a little to see Jon and Gendry hop out of the car. Even Sansa is with them — they must’ve driven the extra hour out of the way to Highgarden to pick her up.

Her mother is slightly peeved they’ve all ditched their Tuesday and Wednesday classes to come home early, but her scolding is half-hearted. Rickon is beside himself with delight and immediately pulls Jon and Robb into a wrestling match. Sansa floats towards the kitchen to start prepping pie crusts — Arya does miss her sister’s baking even though they both admit family life is smoother when they don’t live together — but Gendry hangs back with Arya.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his head outside. He has Robb’s car keys in his hand.

“Where are we going?” Arya feels a pang of anxiety. Car rides make her nauseated, too.

“Not too far.”

A loud wail issues from the living room where it seems like the roughhousing has gotten out of hand and Arya slips out the door behind Gendry.

They drive in silence. If Gendry notices Arya close her eyes ten minutes in, he doesn’t say anything. Thankfully, Gendry was right when he said they weren’t going far — only a few minutes later they’re pulling into a parking lot.

Arya opens her eyes to find that they’re in front of the extremely familiar Winterfell Medical Center.

“Why are we here?” she says as Gendry slides out.

“You’ve got an appointment,” he says before he slams his door shut.

Arya hurries to unbuckle her belt and jumps out after him.

“What do you mean, I’ve got an appointment?”

“Sansa set it up.”

“What?!”

“She dealt with all your family’s medical stuff last summer, so she knew all your information to make the appointment. I said I’d take you so she can bake pies.”

“What the hell, Gendry?” 

Arya is glad her anger is obscuring her complete mortification — _Sansa and Gendry had been plotting this… this ambush behind her back?_ — but she’s also curious as to where he’s leading her.

Gendry looks at her, surprised. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘ _what_ ’? You and Sansa are booking appointments for me — what the hell for?”

Gendry’s expression softens. “It’s with the concussion specialist. We tried to get it earlier, but they’re super swamped. Apparently this place is the best in Westeros. Why they didn’t refer you here in the first place…”

But before Gendry can grumble too much about the inefficiencies of the Westerosi medical system, they’ve reached the neurology department. Gendry checks them in at the front desk. As they take their seats in the plastic waiting room chairs, Arya feels her mind finally catch up to what’s happening.

“Is this about the essay?”

Gendry squirms uncomfortably in his seat — whether from Arya’s question or the fact that the chair itself seems barely able to support his large, muscular frame, Arya is unsure — but he looks her in the eye when he responds. 

“Yes.”

Arya slumps back in her seat. The essay in question had been part of her college applications. Most schools had asked her to _“provide an example of a problem or difficult situation you had to overcome,”_ and naturally she had mentioned the accident. She had not been shy when describing the difficulties she had faced, but she had put a happy end on it — she was all better now and ready to face new challenges at college, thank you very much. Her parents had both read it as she proofread her applications, but she had changed it before she sent it. The new ending was honest: she was still struggling, and it was hard to know when or if it would end. She had sent it to Gendry for proofreading before turning it in. He was in college, so she figured he would know what types of essays would help her get in.

“It’s good,” he had said. “Dark, but… yeah, it’s honest. Not one of those fake, humblebrag essays.”

Now Arya regrets letting him read it. She’s _fine_ , really. There was no need to sort-of-kidnap her to get her to go to the doctor.

_What if they can figure out what’s wrong with you?_ whispers a quiet voice in her head.

She has to admit, watching as Gendry continues to fidget, that she is grateful that someone is at least trying to help her.

When they call her back, Gendry stands with her. She looks at him, brow raised.

“Are you coming with me?”

“Oh!” Gendry blushes, and Arya has to try very hard not to blush in response — Gendry was really, _really_ cute when he was embarrassed. 

“I mean… I don’t have to. Thought maybe you’d want someone to take notes. When I was concussed, I couldn’t remember shit. Would’ve been nice to have someone write stuff down for me. But if you don’t want…” He halfway sinks back to his seat, looking uncertain.

“Come on, stupid,” and Arya strides down the hall, Gendry following.

After the appointment, Arya is very glad Gendry came with her. The doctor was wonderful — she listened to Arya, _believed_ her, and gave her a laundry list of physical therapy exercises. 

“Your right eye isn’t tracking movement correctly,” explained the doctor. “It’s messing with your proprioception. That’s why you get dizzy when you’re walking down the aisle at the grocery store — your eyes are giving your brain two slightly different sets of information. We just need to re-train your right eye movement so it’s in line with the left.”

Gendry had scribbled everything down, and even though Arya was sure that his messy handwriting was going to give her yet another headache, at least she had everything in one place.

As soon as they get back to the car, Arya bursts into tears. 

She hasn’t cried in months — the only times she had cried was when they told her about Bran, and again when her disoriented father hadn’t recognized her when he was still in the ICU — but she has never once cried for herself. She didn’t think she deserved it. After all, her injuries were nothing compared to everyone else’s. She hadn’t even had the stress of helping out like Robb, Jon, and Sansa. Really, she didn’t _need_ to cry.

But here she was, weeping. 

She cried with relief for having a diagnosis. She cried that she had waited so long for one. She cried that someone had listened to her, that someone had taken care of her, that she had lost months of her wellbeing to this stupid concussion, that a stupid fucking truck had slammed into her family and ruined _everything_.

Gendry awkwardly pats her on the back while she cries. When she finally manages to pull herself together, she is surprised she doesn’t feel more embarrassed.

“Sorry, I…”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Gendry. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” He starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Gendry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Gendry says nothing, but a smile tugs at his lips.


	2. The Postcard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up where we left off — enjoy!

The physical therapy takes a while to work, but Arya can feel herself emerging from the fog.

She still calls Gendry every Monday night. Their conversations are different now. As her concussion fades, she feels like they’re more on equal footing rather than him pitying her. She lets this slip once, and Gendry denies this.

“I never pitied you.”

“Yes, you did.”

“…Okay, yeah, sort of, but you were _literally_ hit by a truck.”

“So you felt bad and tried to be nice to me about it.”

“I was nice to you — I _am_ nice to you — because we’re friends.”

“You’re Jon and Robb’s friend.”

“I’m not allowed to have more than two friends?”

“Why would you want to be friends with _me_?” 

There is no self-pity in her voice, only incredulity that someone older than her would show her any interest. Robb and Sansa never did. Jon had, she supposed, but Jon wasn’t like everyone else.

“You don’t take shit from anyone. Everyone needs a friend like that.”

“You’re stupid.”

“See, exactly my point.”

The weeks blur together until college admission letters arrive. She’s rejected from King’s Landing University, and her mother attempts to cheer her up by taking her out for ice cream. Arya rolls her eyes.

“Mom, I didn’t even _want_ to go to King’s Landing.”

“It’s an excellent school, Arya. Although you still have many more excellent options,” she hastens to add.

“King’s Landing smells like shit.”

“Arya!”

Rickon laughs in the backseat — he is less interested in cheering Arya up and more interested in the promise of ice cream. 

Arya is only slightly lying when she says she doesn’t want to go to King’s Landing University. She really doesn’t care much for the school, and she isn’t a big fan of the city either. But Gendry had just accepted a job at a big robotics firm downtown, and it would’ve been nice to have a friend around.

She ends up choosing Dorne University instead. They’ve got a great conservation biology program, and some cool marine research. Gendry sends her a handmade postcard with a drawing of a giant snake and a miniature Arya emblazoned with _Arya and Dorny the Snake - BFFs 4 LYFE._ It is the cheesiest and weirdest thing anyone has ever given her, and it’s the first thing she hangs up in her dorm room.

 

—

 

The first year of college flies by, and Arya doesn’t regret going to Dorne for a second. She’s made loads of new friends, gone to weird and fascinating lectures, and even spent part of her summer doing field work in Pentos. It seems like all that cheesy stuff she had written in her essay about “overcoming adversity” had finally come to fruition.

Things are better for her family, too. Her mother is fully recovered, albeit with a terrifying scar on her neck. While her father still leans heavily on his cane, he is as calm and collected as always. Even Bran has come out of his shell a bit. He’s more interested in robotics than ever, and he’s been able to join a water aerobics program for paraplegics. Arya takes particular pride in this — she had been the one to recommend it to him after seeing a class held at the Dorne University gym. She had mentioned it to Bran and heard nothing else about it until two months later. He sent her a picture of himself in his chair, shirtless next to the pool with both arms raised and flexed. He had scrawled a note on the back:

_Getting swole, bruh_

_(Seriously, thank you, Arya)_

The picture was affixed to her cork board next to various ticket stubs from concerts and Gendry’s weird postcard.

(A few days later, Arya’s friend Meera noticed the image.

“Who’s that? He’s cute”

“My brother.”

“Is he single?”

“He’s seventeen.”

“Oh, shit, my bad.”

Arya had found the whole exchange extremely amusing and relayed it to Bran when she called home. As the phone was passed around the rest of the family, her father had asked:

“What did you say to Bran? He’s been going around with a big dopey smile on his face all night.”)

Still, as much fun as college has been, she’s looking forward to a bit of a break over Thanksgiving. Her sophomore year classes were interesting, but the workload was high, and she could use a few days of sleeping in.

Plus, she couldn’t _wait_ to see Gendry again.

They had kept up their weekly conversations, even when she was in Pentos and the time difference had meant she had to stay up late to talk to him. She prided herself in having put her crush aside for their friendship. Even though she had made a lot of new friends in Dorne, she still felt that no one knew her quite as well as Gendry did. 

The last year had been a strange one for Gendry. There had been a period of two weeks in the spring where he had called Arya at strange times. Whenever she had answered, he seemed to clam up and instead deflected to ask how her classes were going. Arya tried to be sympathetic — Gendry found it just as difficult to talk about feelings as she did — but she wasn’t exactly a patient person.

“Gendry, this is the fourth time you’ve called me this week,” she had said. “Spit it out.”

There was a long pause, followed by a deep breath.

“I found my dad. Or I guess… he found me.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Everything Gendry had bottled up for the past two weeks came pouring out.

“His name’s Robert Baratheon. He was a big football star back in the day, but he’s some sort of real estate developer now. He made big money, but he’s made some bad investments so he’s in all sorts of legal trouble. There was a private investigator who was digging into his life, and I guess he found out that Robert and my mom dated for like, a month. So this guy calls me, asks me if I know Robert, or if I’ve ever met him, and I didn’t know what to say because this total stranger calls and tells me he knows who my dad is! And now I guess Robert found out and got my number and _he_ called me and wants to meet and I don’t know what to do!”

“Gendry, sit down.”

“How do you know I’m not already sitting down?”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re _not_ pacing a hole in your carpet right now? Come on, man, I know you. Sit down and let’s figure this out.”

Together they had crafted a plan: Gendry would meet Robert, but only in a public place, and only for coffee. Arya was on standby ready to call with a fabricated emergency if things went south. After half an hour, Gendry had called her in a panic.

“He gave me a check, Arya.”

“A check?”

“A big one. Said it was the least he could do for not being there for me. He fucking _knew_ about me, Arya. Never said why he didn’t contact me but…. I asked him about his family now and he got super weird. He mentioned his wife and kids, and I think he’s worried I’m going to… I don’t know, show up to his house and announce myself as his heir or something crazy. And then he just gives me this huge check… I don’t know, it seems like he’s trying to buy me off or something.”

“Do you think you want a relationship with him?”

“Uh, he ran off on my mom the second she got pregnant and never looked back. Whatever the DNA test says, I have no interest in him being my dad. I guess I just… I just wanted to know… if he had known about me. Why he didn’t want me around, you know?” Gendry’s voice is as quiet as she’s ever heard it. There’s a long pause.

“Gendry?”

“Yeah?”

“How big is the check?”

“ _Big_. Like, buy myself a house in King’s Landing big.”

“Then fuck it. Cash that check and don’t look back.” 

It’s perhaps not the most nurturing or sympathetic thing Arya could have said, but it made Gendry laugh. He cashed the check.

Now it’s Thanksgiving, and Arya can’t wait to talk to him in person. She is deeply disappointed that he seems to be taking the late train — it’s almost noon and Gendry still hasn’t arrived.

Jon notices her looking out the window. He winces.

“What?”

“I guess he didn’t tell you.”

“What do you mean? Who didn’t tell me?”

“Gendry. He’s not coming this year. He got invited to Thanksgiving with his girlfriend, Shannen.”

Arya feels her stomach sink as she puts the puzzle pieces together.

After the Robert Baratheon Debacle had subsided a few months ago, Gendry had started calling her less frequently. She hadn’t minded much at first — he was no longer in crisis, so what if he missed an occasional chat? He had started rescheduling their Monday night talks, often at the last minute. Now that she did the math, he hadn’t called her in almost three weeks.

She had known about Shannen for a while. Gendry had mentioned a few details here and there — she worked for a local tech company, she volunteered to teach coding skills to underprivileged kids, she was trying to persuade him to get a cat — but Arya had taken these in stride (except for the cat thing, as she loudly and repeatedly reminded Gendry that cats were bird killers, and he was much better off with a dog). She had put aside her mild jealousy and comforted herself in the knowledge that they were still friends no matter what.

But maybe she had been wrong about that.

She waits until Monday night to call him. He postpones until Tuesday, then again until Thursday. When he tries to push back the Thursday call, Arya pretends not to see his text and calls him anyway.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t coming to Thanksgiving?” she says, without waiting for him to say hello.

“Shit, did I forget to tell you?”

“Gendry, you’re a horrible liar.”

“Arya, I’m sorry. I knew you’d be mad, so I put it off, and I guess I… forgot. I’m really, really sorry, Arya. It was a shitty thing to do.”

“What’s the deal? You keep canceling calling me, you don’t tell me about Thanksgiving —“

“I moved in with Shannen,” Gendry interrupts.

“Okay… congrats, I guess? But that’s not what we’re talking about right now.”

“It is, actually,” Gendry sighs. “She… she thinks it’s weird we talk every week.”

“Why’s it weird? We’re friends.”

“She thinks it’s weird.”

“So what, you’re not _allowed_ to talk to me anymore? That’s fucking bullshit.”

“I just thought… maybe we’d talk like once a month instead?”

“Even better, let’s not talk at all! Or how about I just move to the moon, would that make Shannen happy?”

“Arya, come on.”

“I didn’t think you were such a fucking coward, Gendry.” 

She hangs up. Gendry tries twice to call her back, but she doesn’t respond. She’s too busy angrily punching her pillow, pretending it’s Gendry’s stupid handsome face. She can’t believe she’s been tossed aside for fucking _Shannen_ — she liked _cats_ for God’s sake! What could Gendry possibly see in her?

But Arya had seen Shannen in a picture once, and she knew exactly what Gendry must’ve seen in her. Plus, Shannen could talk to Gendry about all the weird machine learning robotics crap that Arya could barely understand, and she was older and probably knew how to file her taxes properly like a real adult. 

Arya responds to Gendry’s missed calls with a gif from The Office: _Sorry I annoyed you with our friendship._

Gendry responds with a gif of his own: _Whenever I’m about to something, I ask myself: would an idiot do that thing? And if they would, then I would not do that thing._

He adds a text beneath it:

_I guess I didn’t follow this advice._

She decides that they can still be friends, if only because his gif game is on point.

 

—

 

The advantage of not having a weekly standing appointment on the phone with Gendry is that now she can go to a Monday night club meeting for SCUBA enthusiasts. She imagines how Gendry would laugh at her if she admitted that. But they hardly text each other more than once or twice a month now, so she never gets to find out.

The club helps new members get SCUBA certified, which Arya thinks will help her get better marine research internships in the future. She signs up for the lessons and finds herself frequently paired up with Ned Dayne, a business major her year who looks rather like a Ken doll come to life. He is really, ridiculously handsome, but he also seems a little dimwitted. Arya soon realizes he’s actually pretty smart, but he is shockingly gullible and will believe just about anything to be true.

“So when you’re underwater and see a shark, you should immediately wet yourself to scare it away.”

“What if you don’t have to go?”

“Ned, come on, Arya is just fucking with you again.”

Ned never seems to mind that Arya teases him. In fact, he seems to seek her out even after their training sessions. She sees him out one night at a party and he approaches her with two large Solo cups. Arya clinks her glass to his and takes big gulp.

“Oh, God, what’s in this?”

“Oh no, is it bad? I was trying to make a vodka cranberry.”

“Why does it taste like orange juice?”

“Well, they didn’t have cranberry juice, so I used orange soda instead. The guys in the kitchen said it would taste the same.”

He keeps trying to bring her terrible drinks all night, so she settles for making out with him instead. He might be a little dim sometimes but he is a _fantastic_ kisser.

Ned Dayne turns out to be a pretty decent boyfriend, too. He’s a little old-fashioned: he insists on walking her home at night, and always tries to pay for dinner even though they’re both equally broke. He brings her flowers and chocolate on more than one occasion. Arya rolls her eyes, but it’s just Ned being Ned. Getting annoyed with him is like being mad at a golden retriever puppy.

He’s not all sunshine and smiles. Sometimes he goes two or three days without responding to her texts because he gets wrapped up in his schoolwork. He’s just as impatient as Arya, and when she’s late for a movie date, he gets so mad he doesn’t speak to her for two days. She almost breaks up with him after that, but then he’s back to his sunny self, apologizing and bringing her an extra-large coffee in time for her morning lecture.

Arya keeps dating him for two reasons: the first (and worst) reason is that she’s simply running down the clock. She’s been accepted to study abroad in Braavos next year, and she knows she’ll have an easy breakup excuse at the end of the semester. 

The second reason she keeps dating Ned is that the sex is great. His fits of chivalry extend into the bedroom, and he absolutely refuses that she go down on him without him reciprocating. From what Arya has gleaned from her friends, this is not the norm in most college relationships and Ned is really, _really_ good with his mouth.

When they break up, she is sad but she doesn’t cry. She’s going to Braavos, after all. There are plenty more fish in the sea, and across it, too.

 

—

 

Braavos is hot and strange and Arya loves it.

She does her best to stay on top of her classes, including an awesome field course on local plants, but most of her weekends are spent exploring. She makes friends with the other students in her study abroad program, but she prefers to visit the museums alone. She wanders around the Braavos Museum of Art for hours. Her favorite statue is the deadly warrior _Nymeria_ , a fearsome goddess of war and vengeance. She holds a shield and sword raised high, the smooth marble of her face etched in a primal scream. Arya buys a dozen postcards for her friends and family back home, but she keeps the one of _Nymeria_ for herself.

A few weeks after she arrives in Braavos, she meets Jaqen H’gar at a wine bar. He’s a recent college graduate, but she never quite figures out what he does for a living.

“A man has many professions,” he says mysteriously. 

Despite his penchant for talking about himself in the third person, Arya finds Jaqen alluring, sexy even. He’s not one for labels, but neither is Arya. She doesn’t need him to be her boyfriend for them to have fun together. 

He takes her to all sorts of places and blends in seamlessly with every crowd. A swanky hotel bar, a Rastafarian reggae festival, the bougie farmer’s market — Jaqen seems almost able to change his face at will. His air of mystery is compelling, and Arya spends weeks trying to solve the enigma.

She finally realizes that the mystery isn’t one she can, or even wants, to solve. Even after a few months of dating ( _is it even dating if my name is still in his phone as ‘A Girl’?_ she wonders), she barely knows anything about him. The sex is fun and adventurous, but always distant. They sneak quickies on darkened beaches, fondle each other on dance floors, but neither of them ever cries out the other’s name. Honestly, it makes her miss Ned and the way he would beam with pride and pleasure as she came.

She thinks about breaking up with Jaqen, but there isn’t really a need. He never calls her back anyway.

There are a few more guys she meets in Braavos — amazing dancers at clubs and a cute barista who makes her coffee just right — but nothing serious. She spends most evenings roaming the city on her own, enjoying the warm evening breezes and bustling nightlife swirling around her. She feels anonymous here, like she could be anybody.

After a while, she just wants to be Arya Stark again.

On her last night, she goes back to all her favorite bars in Braavos. She wakes up with a terrible hangover and a fuzzy memory, but she does remember that she had forced her friends to go on an epic 3AM journey to find a postage stamp. When she stumbles out into her tiny kitchen, she sees the postcard of _Nymeria_ on the table. 

She flips it over. She’s inscribed in a drunken scrawl:

_Yoooooooo, let’s fucking do this shit._

_-Arya_

_To: Gendry Waters_   
_244 Steel Street, Apartment 3_   
_King’s Landing, Westeros 04295_

She drops it in the mail on her way to the airport. It’s time to go home.


	3. The Phone Call

Her senior year back in Dorne is going smoothly so far, and she falls back into things with Ned.

He spent the past year abroad in Volantis, and he’s chilled out a bit with his relentless chivalry. Arya is glad — she rather likes walking around town at night without an escort — and he’s still as good in bed as ever. 

They celebrate the end of their October exams by drinking beer and watching old episodes of _Jeopardy!_ in her apartment. They both try to guess the answers, and whoever gets it wrong has to take a sip of their drink. They’ve gotten through four episodes and they’re both well on their way to drunk thanks to a particular difficult round about famous battleships.

When Arya gets up to grab more beer, her phone starts to buzz. Ned, face flushed pink with alcohol, picks it up.

“Arya’s phone, this is Ned. How may I help you this evening?”

“Ned, what are you doing? Give me my phone.”

Ned swats her hand away.

“Gendry? What kind of a name is Gendry?”

Arya feels her stomach swoop. She and Gendry haven’t actually talked on the phone since her sophomore year. They’ve texted on and off, and there was even a few weeks of emailing when she started getting homesick in Braavos, but he had never called her. Not once.

Arya grabs the phone away from Ned. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“What?” Gendry’s voice is hoarse and deep, and she finds it unnerving how much her heart races to hear it again. “I… look, it’s nothing. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over…”

“No, no, no,” Arya says quickly. “Seriously, what’s up?”

Ned is looking between her and the TV quizzically, eager to resume their game.

“It’s really nothing. I’m sorry I called.” 

And he hangs up.

“Shit,” says Arya, hitting Gendry’s number on her phone. “Just keep watching without me. I’ll be back in a sec,” she says to Ned.

Ned seems unperturbed by this turn of events.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything.”

He hits play on the TV and Arya can hear him shouting at _“WHAT IS ZIMBABWE?”_ at the television.

Gendry doesn’t pick up his phone after several redials, and Arya gets frustrated.

_Arya Stark: Pick up your phone, stupid_

She pauses, thinking that if Gendry is really upset, perhaps it’s best not to insult him via text.

_Arya Stark: Please_

Gendry picks up.

“Arya, I said I’m fine,” Gendry grumbles.

“And I’ve told you a thousand times you’re a bad liar.”

“You have someone over.”

“Ned can entertain himself. We’re watching _Jeopardy!_ , Gendry. You’re not interrupting anything life-changing here. So spill. What’s wrong?”

There’s a long pause. Arya is not a patient woman, but she finds that it’s easier to wait when it’s for Gendry.

“I broke up with Shannen.”

Arya isn’t sure what to say to this. On the one hand, she’s resented Shannen for ages. Arya isn’t a big fan of people who don’t let their partners have friends of opposite sexes. On the other hand, Gendry had clearly cared for Shannen — they had lived together for the past year and a half — and breakups were never that fun, even if they were your decision.

Fortunately, she is spared from reacting because Gendry starts speaking again. For all his reluctance to talk about what he feels, once he starts he has a tendency to ramble.

“I’m really sorry, Arya. You know, that we stopped talking. That was stupid, and I thought… I thought Shannen would get over it, and we could go back to normal. She’d realize our friendship wasn’t like… a threat or anything, but she’s always been weird about it and… Well, last week I found that postcard you sent me from Braavos. You know, of the statue? It came in the mail months ago, but Shannen hid it from me.”

“Really? Isn’t it like, a felony to mess with someone’s mail?”

“That’s what I said! Anyway, I asked her why she hid it, and she got super defensive and mad, like I had done something wrong. We’ve been together for two and a half years and she always gets suspicious and acts like I’m cheating on her and…”

“And what?” says Arya, nervous about where this was headed. “Gendry, what happened?”

“She was cheating on me.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“With her ex. On and off the whole time.”

“Gendry, I… that’s fucking _awful_ … I can’t believe…”

“I can,” says Gendry miserably. “He’s some hot-shot tech guy whose startup just got funded and I’m… me.”

“That’s bullshit,” says Arya angrily. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“It’s true though.”

“No, it’s not,” and Arya thinks she’s never been this mad at Gendry, not even when he tried to stop being her friend. How _dare_ he say he’s not good enough for someone? “You’re the best person I know, and Shannen is a fucking idiot if she doesn’t realize that. Look, I know breakups suck, but good fucking riddance if she’s going to treat you like that.”

“She wasn’t all bad…”

“Gendry, she likes _cats_. She’s a fucking monster.”

Gods, did Arya miss the sound of Gendry laughing. 

“Anyway… yeah, so that’s what happened. Sorry for ruining your night,” Gendry says sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize,” Arya responds. She pulls out her laptop and opens a browser.

“Hey, Gendry?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna come visit me this weekend in Dorne?”

“Arya, you don’t have to…”

“Too bad, because I booked you a train ticket. I’m emailing it to you now.”

“‘Arry…”

“Come on, have you even been to Dorne?”

“No.”

“Well, pack your bags, because we’re going to do it up big.”

“Arya, I…. thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t thank me yet — you’re going to have to sleep on an air mattress on my floor and I think it has a leak in it.”

After they hang up, Arya walks back out to the living room where Ned is still staring rapturously at the TV.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, grabbing a beer and settling in next to him. “My friend Gendry is going to come visit this weekend.”

“Awesome,” says Ned as he wraps an arm around her. 

Arya feels a bubble of happiness welling inside. Things are looking up.

 

—

 

It’s February and graduation is looming in the distance. Arya is trying to find a job and is fully freaking out about it. Talking to Gendry helps, even though he’s clueless about options in her field. At least he had been involved in hiring people before, so he knows the dos and don’ts of cover letters and resumes. 

“So I found this job, and it sounds _awesome_ , but they ideally want two years experience…”

“Apply anyway. You’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re awesome.”

“Ugh, all these places want two years experience. How am I supposed to _get_ job experience if I _need_ experience to get a job in the first place?”

“Ah, the catch-22 of the professional world.”

Arya is distracted as her phone starts buzzing in her ear. Someone is trying to call her, but she ignores it. The only people who ever call her are her family members, and they all know she’s busy on Monday nights. _Must be a spam call_ , Arya thinks.

“Oh, I also found an internship where I get to help tag whales during migration.”

“Paid or unpaid?”

“Technically unpaid, but it says they’ll give me a stipend for room a board.”

The buzzing continues. Perhaps it’s not a spam call…

“Ugh, who the hell is calling me right now,” she complains, sitting down at her desk. Her laptop is pinging with a barrage of new texts. Her family text chain is blowing up.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

“Arya, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s… it’s my dad. He had a heart attack. Gendry, I have to go.”

She hangs up. A distant part of her knows that it was shitty way to end a phone call, but there’s so much adrenaline and fear coursing through her, she can barely focus on anything beyond the glowing screen of her computer.

_Rickon Stark: Dad had a heart attack. Going to the hospital with him and mom. I’ll update you guys._   
_Sansa Stark: OMG, what????_   
_Bran Stark: If you’re going to Winterfell Medical, see if Dr. Tarly is around. He knows Dad’s background from the accident, maybe it’s related._   
_Sansa Stark: I’m driving up from Highgarden now. Margaery is loaning me her car. Rickon, please keep us posted._   
_Robb Stark: On my way. Coming from Talisa’s, so I’ll be there in 30min_   
_Rickon Stark: Call Mom if you’re coming, I think she needs the distraction._   
_Sansa Stark: On it_   
_Bran Stark: Jojen is going to give me a ride. Be there in five hours._   
_Jon Snow: Shit guys_   
_The roads are blocked from the snowstorm up here_   
_I think trains are supposed to start running again by midnight_   
_Update me when there’s news, I’ll text when I’ve got a train_   
_Arya Stark: On my way_

Driving would take a half a day, and there are no direct trains from Dorne. She books a last minute flight leaving in two hours and tries not to think about how much money she just paid for her ticket. 

She spends the entirety of her trip north trying not to vomit. The poor woman next to her on the plane assumes that Arya is terrified of flying and offers to hold her hand, but Arya shakes her head and stares steadfastly out the window.

Sansa picks her up at the airport. The timing works out perfectly — Sansa has just gotten off the highway from Highgarden when Arya’s plane lands. Arya hopes their mother won’t do the math on how quickly Sansa got here; there’s no way she could’ve gotten to Winterfell so quickly without seriously breaking the speed limit. Arya lets Sansa hold her hand in the car, ostensibly for Sansa’s sake, but Arya feels comforted by it, too.

They arrive at the hospital to find Robb, Rickon, and her mother looking exhausted but relieved.

“He’s going to be fine,” says her mother. “A minor episode, but they want to keep him overnight.”

“They’ve got a rule about visiting hours, but we can distract them if you guys want to go in,” says Rickon.

Her dad is asleep, but Arya and Sansa stand watch over him until an angry nurse comes in with a sheepish-looking Rickon and scolds them all to go home.

It takes a long time to fall asleep that night. They don’t make it back to the house until one in the morning. Bran arrives an hour later, and at four AM an old Subaru screeches up the drive and Jon stumbles out of the passenger seat. The driver is a tall woman with bright red hair and the strongest Northern accent Arya has ever heard.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Arya whispers to Jon as she helps him hastily make up the guest room. In all the evening’s panic, they had forgotten to prepare all the rooms for everyone’s arrival.

“Her name is Ygritte,” he whispers back. “I guess we’re dating.”

“She drove you through a snowstorm to get here, that’s pretty nice of her.”

“I said I could drive myself, but she told me ‘you know nothing about snow’ and insisted on driving.”

“Did she call you a crow earlier?”

Jon blushes crimson, mumbling something about a nickname. Arya decides she doesn’t want to know.

The house eventually falls silent, but Arya still can’t sleep. She sits downstairs on an old couch, two of the family dogs joining her so she’s toasty warm. As the first light of morning breaks, she finally feels sleep pulling her into its embrace.

She wakes just a few short hours later to the sound of the driveway being scraped and the dogs whining. She blinks. Everyone in the family hates shoveling the driveway — it was usually her dad’s job — but someone was generously doing it anyway. Less generous was that they forgot to let out the dogs, so they’re all scratching at the door to get out.

Arya throws on the closest winter clothing she can find and opens the front door, dogs weaving around her to jump into the snow. The dark figure shoveling the walk pauses and turns to look at her.

It’s Gendry.

Arya stands frozen for a long moment as they stare at each other. Then she’s flying down the front steps, and Gendry drops his shovel as she catapults herself into his arms.

It’s the first time they’ve ever actually hugged, Arya realizes. Even when he had visited her in Dorne last fall, they had always greeted each other with awkward, one-armed hugs and a punch on the shoulder. This was a real embrace, so close she could smell his shampoo and the sweat that had built up while shoveling the walk. She releases him and steps back.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, a tinge of wonder in her voice.

Gendry shrugs. “Figured you’d need some help.” He looks down at his feet, as if embarrassed. “Hope I didn’t overstep or anything. Last night on the phone, you sounded…”

Arya tackles him in a hug again. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Their hug is interrupted by one of the many family dogs barking to go back inside. Arya runs back up the walk, and Gendry resumes shoveling.

“You want coffee?” she calls to him.

“Sure! I’ll be there in a minute.” He goes back to his shoveling, and Arya feels a rush of affection.

The whole family is surprised but happy to see Gendry again. He hadn’t been around at Thanksgiving because of some big, secretive work project ( _I think I might get promoted_ , Gendry had admitted quietly to her. _I hate missing Thanksgiving, but you’ll come visit me in King’s Landing after you graduate, right?_ ) 

Her mother and Robb go to the hospital to pick up Dad. Sansa and Rickon set about making enough pancakes to feed a small army. Well, Sansa makes pancakes — Rickon seems to be more focused on sampling the maple syrup and whipped cream when Sansa’s back is turned. Jon and Ygritte take the dogs out again for a long walk, which leaves Arya and Bran to quietly drink their coffees with Gendry. When her dad walks through the front door, pale but smiling, the house explodes in cheer. It’s one of the happiest mornings Arya has ever had.

Just over thirty six hours after she left, she’s back in Dorne. The whole episode seems like a dream — or perhaps it was a nightmare? — and she falls onto her bed, head spinning.

Her phone rings. 

“Gendry, we just saw each other five hours ago.”

“Yeah, but our Monday call got interrupted. What were you saying about the whale tagging internship?”

Arya smiles and snuggles deeper into her bed, phone pressed to her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go - stay tuned for it tomorrow :)


	4. The Confession

In the end, Arya doesn’t get the internship, but she does get a job researching shark migrations in Storm’s End. It’s an amazing opportunity. She gets to do hands on research out on Stormbreaker Bay and even though her salary is small, there’s room for advancement. She really could not have gotten luckier.

Especially since Gendry has moved to Storm’s End, too.

He had gotten the promotion he had expected, but it had come with a transfer as well. He had been nervous about leaving King’s Landing — he had lived there his whole life, after all — but Arya had pushed him to take the job. When her own job offer came a few weeks later, she had jumped at the chance to go to Storm’s End. She had tried to pretend that Gendry wasn’t a factor in her decision, but it certainly hadn’t hurt that it was a great job _and_ she’d get to live within walking distance of her best friend.

Her best friend who she is totally in love with, that is.

After graduation, she and Ned had quietly broken up. It was a mutual decision: Ned was moving to King’s Landing to work in finance, and as much as they had enjoyed each other’s company, neither of them had felt any desire to try a long-distance relationship. It was an amicable, mutual breakup, and she really did wish Ned the best.

Single and in a new town, Arya spends her evenings exploring the neighborhoods of Storm’s End. More often than not, Gendry comes with her. They find the best pizza in town (Hot Pie’s), the worst (Harrenhal’s), and go to a dozen different bars scattered across the city. On the weekends she drags him with her on long bike rides, winding around the cliffs overlooking the sea. Sometimes she watches him play a game of football with his new friends in the park. She tapes him performing a particularly ridiculous victory dance under the guise of blackmailing him, but she secretly watches it whenever she feels down. It always cheers her up to watch his attempts to moonwalk.

Arya wrestles with the idea of telling him how she feels. On the one hand, it _is_ possible that he feels the same way about her. After all, he goes to Hot Pie’s with her every Monday night, they spend most of their weekends together, and she doesn’t think she’s imagining how his eyes tend to linger on her lips when she smiles, or how they roam up her body when she’s wearing skintight lycra on a bike ride.

On the other hand, Gendry is her best friend in the whole world, and if she loses him she’s not quite sure what she will do.

She tries to get advice.

“Sansa, you and Margaery were friends before you started dating, right? How did… how did you decide to tell her you liked her?”

“Is this about Gendry?”

“No,” Arya lies quickly. “Forget it. Nevermind.”

Jon is no help either.

“I didn’t do anything, really. Ygritte just told me we were going out and that I was going to take her back to her place and —”

“Ugh, Jon, stop. Way too much information.”

“Oops, Arya, I gotta go — Ygritte needs me for target practice.”

“Are you setting up the targets, or are _you_ the target?”

“Unclear. Bye!”

Robb claims it was love at first sight with Talisa, so that’s no use to her, and her parents met on a blind date. (Her mom was supposed to go on a date with her dad’s brother and there was a mixup. Arya tries not to think about how weird that is). Rickon, now a sophomore in high school, has already had half a dozen girlfriends, but that’s not really the type of sounding board Arya needs either.

As usual, it’s Bran who provides the voice of reason.

“You should tell him how you feel, Arya.”

“I don’t want to mess up our friendship though,” she admits.

“If you’re really friends, you should be able to be honest with each other,” Bran says. “If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll figure something out, but keeping it bottled up means the fallout will just be even bigger in the future.”

“When did you get so wise, little brother?”

“They call me the three-eyed raven.”

“Because you wear a lot of black and wore that super creepy Halloween costume last year?”

“Yep. And Arya? Gendry is crazy if he doesn’t like you back.”

Arya steels herself to tell Gendry the truth. She practices in front of the mirror until she has complete, calm control over her face. No blushing, no looking away. She’s going to look him dead in the eyes, tell him she likes him, and that there are no hard feelings if he doesn’t feel the same. It’s the perfect plan.

The plan goes sideways when she catches him out on a date.

It’s a Friday night, and Arya decides to take the long route home from work. Gendry had texted earlier to make plans to hang out, but told her he was busy until 7. Arya kills time by walking along the pier, passing happy hour bars teeming with young professionals in suits slurping down cheap oysters.

One man in particular catches her eye. He’s dressed more casually than everyone else, but his jeans are showing off a particularly sculpted ass, and his button down shirt is rolled up to show tanned, muscular forearms. As Arya gets closer she realizes with a jolt that it’s Gendry, and he’s talking to possibly the most beautiful woman Arya has ever seen.

She’s tall and dark-haired, like Gendry, with blue eyes that sparkle and a wide, white smile. She’s wearing a cocktail dress that hugs her in all the right places, and Arya is painfully aware of her own scuffed, steel-toed boots and jeans that may or may not have gotten fish guts on them today. Gendry laughs at something the woman says and she touches his arm. Arya feels like sinking into the ground. 

She forces herself to keep going — she’s only ten feet away from the bar, she’ll just walk by and pretend she didn’t see anything — but a couple steps out in front of her and she has to wait for them to get out of her way.

It gets worse. Gendry happens to turn his head to where Arya is standing and spots her, jumping a little in surprise.

“Arya! What are you doing here?” Gendry peers at her over the glass partition between the outdoor bar area and the sidewalk where she’s standing.

“Oh, this is Arya?” says the tall woman, and Gendry flushes bright red. Arya looks at him, confused — how does his date know who she is?

“Please, come join us!” says the woman cheerily, and she waves for Arya to come around into the bar.

“Oh, it’s okay… I was just…” Arya stammers.

“Please! I was just about to leave. You can keep Gendry company.” The woman maneuvers out to the sidewalk and steers Arya through the crowd to the small hightop table she and Gendry have commandeered. Arya notices in the few seconds since he’s spotted her, Gendry has gulped down about half his beer in one go.

_He’s nervous_ , she thinks. _Serves him right for not telling me he has a new girlfriend._

“I’m Mya,” says the woman kindly, unaware that Arya has already resolved to hate her. “I’m Gendry’s sister.”

Arya feels her eyes bug out of her head.

“His _what_?”

“Oh, did Gendry not tell you yet?” The woman — _Mya_ , Arya reminds herself — seems unfazed. “Well it’s all very new. I only contacted him yesterday because I found out I was going to be in town. Yeah, I took one of those ancestry tests. I’m a journalist, so it was for an article I was doing. I thought it might be interesting since I never knew my dad. You know, see if there were any family connections out there I might find.”

Arya glances at Gendry, curious.

As if reading her mind, he says, “I didn’t take a DNA test. She found another brother first. Edric.”

“Yes,” says Mya cheerfully. “Edric actually _knew_ who his dad — our dad, I guess — was. Robert Baratheon. I guess he got around a lot back in the day… Professional athletes… Anyway, Edric’s mom told him about Robert when he was a kid, so that’s how I found out about him. Then I started looking into him — I was curious, you know? — and I found out about a terrible recent divorce. I dug into it a bit and there was a rumor that the reason had to do with illegitimate children. There was a whole list of us — seriously, it’s like the man had never heard of condoms before! Gendry was on the list of names, so I tracked him down and here we are!”

Arya, feeling a little stunned, looks at Gendry for a long moment, then back at Mya.

“And this the first time you’ve met?”

“Yeah!” says Mya. Her enthusiasm is overwhelming, but charming. Arya thinks that this is what it would be like if Gendry’s silly victory dance were a person. 

“Oh, Gendry, I’m sorry. I have to go — I have a meeting for a new story,” she tells Arya in explanation. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Gendry says, looking a little surprised when Mya wraps him in a big hug.

“I’ll be around in Storm’s End the next two weeks. Let’s meet up again soon. You too, Arya — I want to know more about you after what Gendry’s told me. Damn it, I’m really going to be late now — bye!” 

Mya weaves her way out through the crowd again, leaving a slightly shellshocked Gendry and Arya.

Something clicks into place. 

“What did you tell her about me?” Arya asks.

Gendry blushes again. Arya bites her lip — he’s still _really_ cute when he’s embarrassed.

“That you’re my friend,” he says evasively.

“I thought you guys were on a date,” Arya admits.

Gendry looks surprised. 

“Why would you think that?”

She shrugs. 

“‘Dunno. You could’ve been on a date.”

“Arya?”

“Yeah?”

“Did it… bother you that you thought I was on a date?”

A week of preparing herself in the mirror for this is the only reason she doesn’t turn bright red.

“Yes.”

“Because we had plans?”

“No.”

Gendry gives her a long look and drains his beer. 

“Want to get a drink?”

“What, here?” she says, looking around. This isn’t the type of place Gendry would usually want to hang out. Arya strongly suspects it was Mya who had chosen the location of their first meeting.

“Nah,” says Gendry. “Hot Pie’s.”

She nods and they set off down the street. When they arrive, Gendry insists on paying.

“We always split it,” Arya says, frowning.

“Oh,” says Gendry, looking down at his shoes. “I guess I should’ve said. I thought I was asking you on a date.”

Arya’s heart soars.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, then.” And she slides into a booth in the back, grinning ear to ear.

They talk for hours. She’s on her third beer when she finally asks him.

“So, how long have you been into me?”

“Hmm,” Gendry ponders, leaning forward. “Hard to say really… I guess we were first really friends after your whole concussion thing, but you were like… seventeen. I mean, I always thought you were pretty cute, but it would’ve been super creepy to be actually… _into you_ like that.”

“Fair enough,” she says, taking another swig of beer. “So what changed?”

“Maybe getting your postcard?”

“The one of _Nymeria_?”

“Yeah. I went ballistic when I found out Shannen had been hiding it from me. But I realized I was just mad that I had gone a whole year and a half without really talking to you. I missed you. And then I went to see you in Dorne and… I don’t know, I realized that maybe I wanted to be with you as more than friends… That I had actually wanted that for a while. But you were with Ned then, and I tried telling myself it was just because I was upset about the breakup… but ever since we’ve been in Storm’s End I’ve been trying to psych myself up to ask you out.” He runs a large hand through his hair, a slight flush creeping up the back of his neck. 

Arya grins wolfishly.

“Well, we’re here now aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” Gendry’s grin returns, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What about you? How long have you been into me?”

Arya glares in response. Gendry laughs.

“Oh, shit, you’ve had a crush on me for a while, haven’t you?”

“Don’t fucking gloat. I was fourteen and you were nice to me and let me crush you on that bike ride.”

“Let you? You crushed me fair and square, ‘Arry.”

Arya rolls her eyes at him. Gendry seems to find this even more amusing.

“So, you’re into older guys then?”

“I’m into _you_ , stupid.”

Gendry’s eyes go soft. He downs the last of his beer and they slide out of the booth.

Gendry walks her home. Arya hesitates when he offers, but he quietly admits he doesn’t want the night to end yet. She gives him a smirk and laces her hand in his. 

By the time they get to her front door, Arya feels electrified. How is it even possible that she’s so turned on? They’re only holding hands, but she feels like she’s going to jump out of her skin. Gendry offers no protest as she leads him inside the apartment and into her room. The second she closes the door, she pushes him against the nearest wall into a searing kiss.

Gendry wastes no time. His hands are roaming all over, and he pulls her flush with him as they kiss. Several heated minutes pass before Arya pulls back.

“We’re gonna fuck tonight, right?”

Gendry’s laugh booms through the tiny apartment. 

“Fuck, Arya. You never want to take things slow and savor them, do you?”

“I’ve been waiting to fuck you for _years_ , Gendry. I think I’ve been more than patient.”

Gendry’s blue eyes go dark as he crushes his lips to hers again.

“That’s a yes, right?” she pants.

“You have my extremely enthusiastic consent,” says Gendry bemusedly.

“Good,” Arya says. She tosses a condom at him and yanks off her shirt. “Take your pants off.”

Thirty immensely pleasurable minutes later, Arya has just enough brain function left to text her roommate.

_Arya Stark: FYI there will be extremely loud sex sounds in the apartment all night_   
_Sorry not sorry_   
_Jeyne Rivers: Hahahaha thanks for the head’s up_   
_My date is going well, so I’m going back to his place anyway_   
_Get some, ayyyyyyyy_

Arya turns her phone on silent and turns back to Gendry.

“When are we going for round two?”

Gendry smiles and moves his hand between her legs.

 

—

 

The best part about being Sansa’s bridesmaid was getting to wear this dress.

Normally, Arya hates wearing dresses. In fact, Sansa practically had to beg her to wear this one. But as Arya walks down the aisle escorted by Margaery’s brother Loras, she says a silent prayer in gratitude that her sister had picked out this outfit.

When the dress had arrived at their apartment several months ago, she had held it up for Gendry to see.

“Sexy,” he said, rubbing the grey silk between his fingers.

“Ugh, Gendry,” Arya said, flopping onto the couch. “You know I hate dresses. Don’t tell me you want to see me all dressed up.”

“Normally? No. I like your ripped jeans just fine. But this… what the hell are you going to wear under this?”

“Nothing, probably.”

He had looked at her, wide-eyed, before throwing himself down onto the couch with her. The resulting sex had been quite fun. 

Afterwards, Gendry had confessed that he had really just liked the feel of the fabric.

“It’s soft like your skin… I’m just going to be thinking about you naked the whole time.”

“Good, so you won’t be bored.”

“It’s your sister’s wedding, Arya. I’m going to be on my best behavior.”

“Except for the fact that you’ll be thinking about me naked the whole time, apparently.”

“Yeah, but we won’t get to actually _do_ anything about it because you promised Sansa we’d behave ourselves.”

Arya groaned. Six months earlier, Jon had married Ygritte on a farm up north. It was the perfect hippie wedding, and Arya had gleeful stomped around in a flower crown and electric blue romper. The romper had become a bit of a problem later in the evening when she snuck off into the nearby woods with Gendry. He had pressed her up against a tree and one thing led to another before they were completely naked on the forest floor. They would’ve gotten away with it if Sansa hadn’t noticed the twigs embedded in Arya’s hair. At the time, Sansa had giggled and promised to keep it a secret, but now that it was her wedding day, she had made it clear that her classy winter wedding was no place for an adventurous sexcapade.

“Ugh, she’s being such a hypocrite,” whined Arya. “She and Margaery went off to do it like five minutes after we came back!”

Now, Arya stands at the front of the hall watching her brothers walk arm-in-arm with various Tyrell cousins. She tries very hard to focus on the procession instead of the hungry look Gendry is giving her in the second row. They’ve been together for four years, and it still makes her stomach flip when he looks at her like that.

As the late January sun lights up the sparkling snow outside, the brides make their entrance together. ( _We enter in love, and we leave in love_ , Sansa had explained dreamily while Arya made barfing noises). Arya has to admit that even she is feeling emotional at the glowing look on her sister’s face. There’s hardly a dry eye in the house once the vows are made. Arya tries not to scowl as Gendry winks at her — he’s won their bet that she would tear up.

After the whirlwind of pictures, reception drinks, toasts, and dinner, Arya and Gendry are swaying together on the dance floor. Neither of them really knows how to dance, but Sansa had insisted all her siblings join in after the first dance to get the party started. It works: practically every guest is spinning around on the dance floor when Arya leans up to whisper in Gendry’s ear.

“Did you find a place for us to fuck?”

Gendry grabs her hand and makes a beeline off the dance floor. Arya really hopes Sansa isn’t watching them.

Gendry has managed to find a large, single-occupancy restroom on the first floor by the kitchen. The venue is so swanky that even the bathroom has glowing candles surrounding the sink and soft classical music playing.

“Well, this is certainly the most romantic bathroom we’ve ever…” but the rest of her sentence is lost as Gendry is already on his knees, sliding her dress up her hips.

When they tiptoe out a good twenty minutes later, Rickon is strolling by, having gone down to the kitchen to try to nick some alcohol for himself.

“ _Busted_!” he says in a singsongy voice.

“If you don’t tell Sansa, I will get you a shot of vodka from the kitchen.”

“Two shots and you have a deal.”

“ _One_ and I play wingman for you with the Tyrell cousin of your choosing.”

“Deal.”

As the night winds down, Arya finds herself back on the dance floor with Gendry, slowly revolving under the twinkling lights above. He’s looking wistfully at the brides and Arya feels her stomach squirm. All these weddings have gotten Gendry thinking about marriage, and although they’ve talked about it, they’ve agreed there isn’t any rush. Still, it’s not like Arya hasn’t thought about it…

“You know I won’t wear a white dress, right?” she says, looking up at him.

Gendry smirks down at her. 

“Of course.”

“And none of this fancy wedding crap, either.”

“Right.”

“We should just go to city hall and elope.”

“Whatever you want.”

“But you do have to propose to me first.”

Gendry looks surprised, but he smiles. 

“You want me down on one knee?” he teases.

“I rather like it when you get down on your knees for me.”

Gendry laughs and holds her close.

 

—

 

A year later, Gendry brings in the mail and holds out a postcard to her. It has a goofy drawing of a shark and a robot squaring off as if about to fight, but below it the words _Team Arya + Gendry_ is scrawled in Gendry’s messy handwriting.

“You sent me a postcard?” she asks, flipping it over. “Gendry, we’ve lived together for almost four years, what —”

But the sentence dies in her throat as she looks up from the postcard. Gendry is down on one knee, smiling up at her.

“Will you marry me?”

She tackles him so forcefully that they slide into the coffee table. He fucks her on the floor, and she’s so happy that she hardly notices the knock of the table leg against her head.

Afterwards, as they struggle to find their discarded clothing — somehow Arya’s bra had been catapulted on top of the bookcase — Arya rubs the back of her head.

“Shit, I hope I didn’t just concuss myself fucking you,” she says jokingly.

Gendry looks up at her, concerned.

“I just heard about a podcast covering new inventions to address climate change… I’ll go download them for you right now.”

She tackles him again. This time, he’s the one getting his head knocked against the floor, but Gendry has no complaints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all, folks! Thanks for reading - it’s been fun!
> 
> If you need more, I’ve been working on a different Gendrya AU — an enormous one-shot, so good for those of you who don’t like to wait for updates ;) It will be up tomorrow morning!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed reading!


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